


the only one whose ever known (who I am, who I'm not)

by KeeperofSeeds



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blanket Permission, F/F, Femslash February, Gen, Mental Instability, Past Relationship(s), Podfic Welcome, Post-Ahsoka novel, Self-Harm, Solitary Confinement, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeperofSeeds/pseuds/KeeperofSeeds
Summary: Barriss survives Order 66, by dint of being locked up and forgotten in a prison cell. Years later, Barriss is surprised to find an old... friend, alive and just as foolish as she had been as a child.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [anaraine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine) in the [swfbfemslashprompt2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/swfbfemslashprompt2017) collection. 



> Lost and insecure  
> You found me, you found me  
> Lying on the floor  
> Surrounded, surrounded  
> Why'd you have to wait?  
> Where were you, where were you?  
> Just a little late  
> You found me, you found me  
> In the end  
> Everyone ends up alone  
> Losing her  
> The only one who's ever known  
> Who I am, who I'm not, and who I wanna be  
> No way to know  
> How long she will be next to me
> 
> -You Found Me, The Fray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags. Barriss is definitely not in a good frame of mind for this story.

She doesn't know how long she's been alone.  
  
The Temple Guards had disappeared many deliveries of food ago, and now droids are all she sees. Even cut off from most of the Force Barriss could tell something was wrong.

She couldn't hear anything, deep underground as she was, but the screams in the Force were powerful enough to reach even her, deep in the depths of the Jedi Temple.

  
She'd let her own yells join the fray, but no one came to check on the noise.  
She yelled until her voice was ruined, and all she was left with were tears and a throat full of glass. No matter how much she screamed or raged or cried, it didn't do anything to fill the void that had opened up inside her.

* * *

Those feelings pass in time. The screams fade. The pain lingers, echoing out in the Force. Eventually, after more nights of screaming or raging, the pain numbs.  
After long weeks of darkness and solitude, she is eventually found.  
  
It is not an improvement.

* * *

Barriss sits, and she waits. Sometimes, she paces. Round and round and round the small cell in the depths of the Temple that is more empty than she's ever known. Bare feet quiet in their tapping rhythm against the cool floor. She paces until she knows the patterns in the permacreate intimately. Bumps and creases and cracks. She does not think about how these imperfections came to be. She doesn't think about who sat in this cell before her. She just waits. Waits to be questioned again. To be dragged out and used. Years of knowledge pulled directly from her mind ordragged out from her bleeding lips to drip upon the floor of rooms she once walked with pride.

  
She does not meditate. Does not let herself reach out, past the barriers, past the shock cuffs, to the bare trickle of the Force shecan sense deep within these walls.

  
She does not know if it is her depth beneath the earth that blocks the Force, something they are giving her in the bland meals to suppress her senses, or the Dark that now permeates out from main tower that blocks it.  
  
She finds that it doesn't really matter.  
  
Bariss can't even find the strength to revel in being right. In **surviving**.  
  
She's outlived them all. The empty ache inside her where the light of Jedi once were lingers longer than she expects. There were so many gone. She doesn't know where Master Lumianra would have been. She wasn't in the Temple, that much she knows, but as to what world she might have been sent to she has no way of knowing. She isn't sure she wants to know.  
  
She releases those thought. Lets them float away into the trickle of the Force she can sense. Old habits die hard some nights.  
  
She continues to wait.  
  
She wonders if it would have been better to die side by side with her Master, maybe in the arena at Geonosis. The feel her blood leak out onto the sands, to die while she thought she was fighting for a righteous cause.

* * *

Time looses all meaning, and the days blur into each other.There's no hint of sun or any of Courascant's manufactured weather. No sound other than the steady hum of distant machines or occasionally, the steady marching of unseen guards on patrols. She's never allowed in to the living spaces of the Temple. She doesn't think about how sometimes she's grateful for that. It's unlikely that the bodies are still there, unlikely that they were left to rot after the takeover…but the psychic backlash will probably linger on for years, if not decades.  
  
She runs her fingers along one of the thin cracks in the wall near the barrier that is her door, thinks of working in the Healer's ward, remembers smearing bacta over layers of old scars, adding on healing,encouraging the body to knit itself together. She tries to imagine what the ward looks like now, but the image she comes up with is too disturbing. Instead, she goes back to waiting. To letting the quiet hum of background noises flow over her and tug her down, down down until she stretches out on the floor to sink more fully into it. Lets it wash over her. Only the delivery of meals pushed through her door by a droid break up the monotony.

  
She wonders if this is what it feels like to be washed away into the Force. How long will it take to lose herself completely? How long before she forgets the name Barriss? How long before she forgets the things she did?

* * *

New figures replace the Temple Guards who'd abandoned her cell during the attack. They aren't the red robed figures who'd dragged her to interrogation once before, but neither are they Jedi guards she notes, watching their stiff body language and suspicious head tilts towards her. All the Jedi are dead her mind whispers, and she shakes her head as if to banish that thought. These guards are just as closed off to as the Temple Guards were however, clothed head to toe in armor. Clone trooper armor, scratched and dirty in the dim light of the corridor. The paint is either worn or scraped off. They are armed with blasters instead of pikes. She files that information away. Not that it matters. Not like she's any more likely to escape than before. She'd have to travel dozens of levels up, through the Temple itself, and make it off the sprawling Temple grounds and into the lower depths of Coruascant.  
  
Where Ahsoka had run. Where she'd led her.  
  
No. It was extremely unlikely.  
  
No one likes a traitor. Whoever is in charge now probably won't care for her any more than the Jedi did. If they hated the Jedi so much to risk attacking the Temple itself, than they probably hate her, though she's been stripped of her rank for a long while now.

  
All she can do is wait.

Either they'll come for her, or they won't. Nothing she can do will change the likelihood.

  
She picks at the calluses forming on her feet from months of pacing. Her cell feels smaller than usual that night.

* * *

It could be days later, or it could be months, she couldn't tell how long, but eventually she is brought to a new room. They pull her by the arms to a training room, instead of the plain ones used for interrogation. She is instructed to fight.

"The Emperor commands it," she is told.

His Inquisitors need practice in fighting Force wielders, is what she's told. Who this Emperor is isn't explained. Neither is what they need to fight against. She wonders if the war is still going on without the Jedi. Her voice scratches when she tries to speak, out of practice with simply conversation, so she gives up, and simply nods along.  
  
They give her a lightsaber. Barriss blinks down at it, confused. It's not hers, and it takes a moment to recognize it as a training saber. It's an acceptable tool, though the handle is shorter than she is used to, and it throws her off enough that she's easily defeated in her first three matches. Pushed back under strength she's long since forgotten. It's disgraceful. These arrogant, half trained children dancing around her, crowing in their victory over a Jedi Knight. They don’t seem to care she’d been stripped of her rank when she’d been caught.  
  
The burn of a strike on low power is a welcome distraction, reminding her of mornings spent in the training salle, or katas practiced again and again until she could do them in her sleep. She breathes deep, cracks her neck, and allows muscle memory to take over.  
  
She wins the next match, though it is no easy feat. She grins down at her masked opponent through bloodied teeth.  
  
Her wrists ache that night, unused to blocking and bending,and she can't stop tonguing her split lip. She has a long way to go to get back into fighting shape. She runs cold fingers over the yellowing bruises blossoming on her torso, pressing in harder to ground herself to the here and now.

  
Being useful is better than being forgotten she tells herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Time moves on. Barriss counts days by how her bruises fade and burns heal over. Sometimes she picks at the scabs and remembers the feel of the thick goop of bacta scooped between fingers. She's forgotten the sweet smell of it. Like some kind of fruit.

  
Like many things from before, the knowledge isn't important. She lets it go, and stands up to pace. If she does enough circuits, maybe she'll be able to sleep. Maybe the shadows of her former life won't drift down from the floors above to haunt her.

* * *

She can't sleep. She paces until her feet ache and still she can't stop the feeling of dread that hangs over her. Like hands reaching outfrom the shadows as soon as she closes her eyes.

She screams at the guards but they don't move from their posts at the end of the hall.

* * *

The training slows and eventually ceases. She chafes in her cell, restless energy and anger bubbling under her skin, no longer used to thesilence.  
  
She'd let herself become used to the luxury of space, of activity. Now she has to train herself back. She tries to remember long ago sessions of mediation. She remembers sitting on round cushions as an Initiate, remembers the ache her knees as a Padawan kneeling before her Master, hands palms up on her knees.  
  
She can't remember the sound of her Master's voice.  
  
That realization washes over her and she slips into sleep that night with silent tears pooling beneath her on the cot in a damp circle.

  
It's easier after that, to slip back into the routine of monotony.

* * *

She rides the grief for long enough that she loses track of days again. She ignores the delivery of food and feels her ribs grow sharper under her hands. Her hair feels matted underneath her covering, and her half-hearted finger combining fails to make a dent in the knots. She imagines cutting it all off. Imagines taking a knife and hacking away at it, seeing it circle her on the floor, blending into the dark pools of shadows. Imagines if she continued slashing, mixing red and black and red into a pattern for others to find. Imagines it staining the dirty white armor of her guards if they came to check on her.

There is more than one way to escape.  
  
She lets that dream linger, allows her hands to shake in want beneath the bulk of the shock cuffs.  
  
She's never felt so trapped. The loneliness suffocates her.  
  
Jedi weren't meant to be alone.  
  
She isn't really a Jedi any more, but old habits die hard.

* * *

The next day, or what she assumes is the next day, she's startled awake by the hum of her cuffs stopping. The sudden silence rings out and her breath catches in her throat.

She waits, finally exhaling, a sharp, shaky breath. The guards don't come rushing over to her cell. No alarm rings. She twists her left wrist slowly, testing the cuff. She's lost weight, perhaps this is a chance for some kind of freedom. If not escape than a chance to go down fighting.  
  
Another deep breath in, and she pulls. Her thumb catches and scraps, but pulls free.

  
Bariss has to clamp her mouth shut on the hysterical laughter that begins to crawl at her throat. It’s startled out of her when the light above her flickrers and goes dark, followed by the barrier across her door.  
  
No, she thinks. It’s too easy. This is a test of some sort. Or a set up. She stays silent, waiting in her bed, but still, no one comes running.  
  
Everything is quiet.  
  
She slowly puts one foot over the edge of the bed and onto the cold stone floor. One step, then another, she creeps towards the now open door. The hallway is dimly lit by the emergency backup lights. Their soft red tinted glow makes the shadows seem darker.  
  
If not now, then when? Bariss thinks, and wraps her fist around the empty cuff still attached to her wrist. It won’t do much again armor, but it’s better than punching with her bare fists.  
  
The halls stay dark and quiet as she inches down them, relying on half forgotten memories and instinct. If she strains her ears she can hear the distance thump thump thump of booted feet.

Maybe something is happening on the upper levels. Maybe another takeover. Whatever it was wasn’t her concern. She moved faster now, her bare feet slapping against the stone foor. She dodges around a mouse droid and takes a left, towards a hallway that should lead to one of the laundry rooms, and hopefully a way out onto the streets, when she slams into someone.  
  
She feels hands grab at her and quickly lets her own weight drop down to her knees, punching as hard as she can towards what she hopes is a knee with her cuffed hand. If she can bring whoever it is down, she has a better chance of knocking them out.  
  
The stranger grunts and Bariss feels them lash out. She feels a fist against the side of her head and has to blink hard against the spots that bloom in front of her eyes. She reaches out to grab at the dark fabric in front of her and rolls back, pulling the being head over heels. She hears the whoosh of air being forced out and hurried to roll away, to put space between them and see what she’s dealing with. Something isn’t right here.  
  
The being is not wearing the dirty armor she’s gotten used to seeing. They aren’t calling for backup.  
  
Her pausing was mistake. The figure gets to one knee and throws their hands out, and Bariss feels the Force Push throw her back and the corridor around her becomes a red blur as she skids backwards down the hall. The figure follows quickly and pins her down with a knee to the chest and an arm over her throat. It’s not hard enough to cut off her air, but the threat is there.  
  
“I’m not with the Empire.” The figure rasps out. “I’m not here to fight you.”  
  
...no. Barriss thinks. No. It can’t be. Her mind is playing tricks again, or this is a trap. Her jailers are toying with her. The Force wouldn’t be this kind, or that cruel.  
  
Laughter bubbles up from between her lips, tinged with an edge of hysteria.  
  
The figure pulls back in surprise and Barris can finally see the familiar marks on the face of Ahsoka Tano.  
  
“Of course it would be you! Have you come to finish me off? To take your revenge?” Barriss lets her arms fall to the side. This would be a fitting end after all. A ridiculous and fitting ending.   
  
But Ahsoka doesn’t strike. She pushes back her hood and looks down in shock.  
  
“Barriss?!” She gasps. “ **You’re** the prisoner?!”  
  
She backs off but pulls Barriss forward into a crushing embrace. “I thought you’d been killed! I thought you’d been released and were off world and when everything happened I didn’t know and”  
  
Barriss blinks in shock now as well. The arms around her feel real. The wash of warm breath against her neck as Ahsoka babbled on couldn’t be something her mind remembered in this type of detail.  
  
Was this a rescue?  
  
Was this real? Could she be this lucky?  
  
She pulls back and Ahsoka allows it, but keeps touching her. Hands running up to push tangled hair back from where it’s escaped her head covering, feeling down her arms, gingerly touching the raw marks on her wrist.  
  
“What are you doing here Ahsoka?” The words come out harsher than she meant them to, but her head is spinning. She doesn’t know what to think, what to say. Whether to accuse Ahsoka or embrace her again or to start running and running and running until she fades back into the deep darkness of monotony and sleep.  
  
“I heard rumors of Jedi prisoners,” she starts, “I came to confirm those rumors, or to take whatever I could. Whatever the Empire hasn’t.”  
  
“You came by yourself?! Just for a rumor?! For all you know you could have been walking into a trap!” Barriss’ voice is rising now. “You were always reckless Ahsoka but that is outright stupid! Rushing alone into unknown territory might have worked with a battalion at your back but not now!”  
  
Ahsoka lets the words hang in the air for a moment. Them she stands and holds out a hand.

  
“I’m not the girl you remember anymore Barriss. Things have changed outside. **I’ve** changed. I don’t have time to tell the whole story or for you to keep fighting me. You’ll have to trust me. I can fill you in some as we walk, but we shouldn’t linger for long. I don’t know how long until up top notices the power has been re-routed.”

  
Barriss thinks of refusing the hand up, just to be contrary, but she is tired. And she can feel the rush from the fight draining away.

  
She takes the offered hand. It doesn’t feel like she remembers, but she’s reluctant to let go all the same.

* * *

Ahsoka talks, quickly and quietly as ahe leads Barriss through the maze of hallways. “We're putting together a Rebellion, an Alliance to restore the republic-”

Barriss scoffs.  
  
"Because what we had before was so much better, I’m sure."  
  
Ahsoka goes still and turns to look Barriss in the eye as she speaks. It’s worse than if she’d started yelling.

“You have no idea how things have been out there. No matter how bad it was being locked here, you don’t know what we-” she breaks off with a choked up noise. “Things are bad Barriss. The people I’m with are fighting against threats bigger than we could have imagined.”  
  
Barriss doesn’t say anything so Ahsoka turns to continue walking, taking a different route than Barriss had planned in her half-hearted escape. She’s still talking, going on about this new group she’s found and how great the people are and how even some allies from the War have joined up.  
It’s good to hear she hadn’t just snuck into the Temple all alone, but the whole conversation starts to feel a little too familiar. Barriss cuts Ahsoka off before she can start in on any idealistic memories of the past. Continuing her line of thought from earlier.  
  
"Why are you doing this? Why do you even want to help me? **I'm** the one that framed you. I ruined everything for you!"  
  
Ahsoka stops so suddenly that Bariss stumbles in her haste not to run into her, her hands press against the soft fabric, smearing more blood and filth into the folds.  
  
"Yes," Ahsoka says simply, "You framed me for a crime I didn't commit, but...you also saved me. If I hadn't left the Order, I could have died in the Temple that Day. Or in the field beside my Master." She turns to face Bariss then, looks her in the eyes before continuing on in a slow, measured tone. "You also showed me a side to the Jedi that I didn't know about. How far from our goals we had fallen. How quickly and easily manipulated the Council was by the politicians." Her gaze hardens."The Republic wasn't perfect, and neither were the Jedi, but our group is full of people who are striving to do better. Be better."  
  
She looks away then, and takes a slow measured breath before continuing. "I won't force you to join us. That's not what we are. It's your choice. I can drop you wherever you’d like, but...it would be nice. To have a familiar face around.”  
  
She reaches out slowly, giving Barriss a chance to pull away, before resting a hand on her arm.

  
“I did miss you Barriss. Despite everything. I missed...us.”  
  
Barriss isn’t sure what to make of that. She long figured that Ahsoka would never forgive her for her actions. For abandoning her and whatever their short lived...something might have grown into.  
  
...maybe she should go with Ahsoka. Maybe she could find someplace to be free. Maybe Aksoka wouldn’t throw her away or leave her to be interrogated by her new group.   
  
Barriss slowly reaches up to grip Ahsoka’s wrist. When she meets her eyes Barriss nods.  
  
“I’ll come with you. If only for now,” she quickly adds as Ahsoka’s eyes light up. “I am curious to see if what you claim is true. You’ve always been too trusting. ”  
  
Ahsoka isn’t even fighting to keep the smile off her face. Strange. Barriss thought she'd be less easy to read now. She pulls Barriss in for a quick hug, and then turns again to continue to an exit.  
  
Ahsoka is going on now in a quick but quiet voice, about how she'll need to stop for more supplies before taking them back to a base to debrief and how she never expected to actually find someone still alive down here, and she's pulling Barriss along in her orbit in a way that makes it feel like old times. That hope dragging at her and prodding in a way that might be the Force, or it might be her own guilty conscious. She will follow Ahsoka's lead. See what group she's gotten mixed up in now.

  
Maybe she can even help. Share what little information she has.  
  
Even if they can’t reignite what they once had together, it could be worth it. Being useful is better than being forgotten she tells herself.


End file.
